


the closer you look

by rebelsquad (wolveheart)



Series: where the magic is happening [1]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, based on Now You See Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolveheart/pseuds/rebelsquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If someone had told Stella fifteen years ago that one day she’d be sitting in a private jet with three of the world’s best magicians on her way to a sold-out show in L.A., she’d have given them an ice cream cone to cool down that romping imagination. </p><p>A lot of things had changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the closer you look

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uniformly (dustystars)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=uniformly+%28dustystars%29).



> This is only partly my fault, because while I was the one who tagged that one NYSM photoset with "honestly?? tp au" it was [scramjets](http://scramjets.tumblr.com) who started talking to me about this and came up with the character roster. We agreed that there should at least be a ficlet, somehow I accidentally ended up writing two. Oops.
> 
> Self-betaed, because? These are ficlets and this is how I roll B)
> 
> Hope you like it!

“Hey, gorgeous, relax.”

Stella looked up from her hands that were tying and retying knots into her mother’s old handkerchief.

Settling into the seat opposite hers in the crammed private jet, Hoosier gave her a lazy grin.

“If you keep it up with your nervous energy, you might just project that onto me and I’ll end up accidentally infecting the pilot. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too keen on crashing into the Pacific Ocean.”

“Oh, trust me,” Stella pushed his feet away before he could rest them on what little empty space was left on her seat, “I had no intention to end my life that way.”

“Then stop giving off that vibe, it’s putting me on edge.”

If it did indeed, Hoosier’s slouching body showed no such indication. Then again, Stella mused, she still didn’t really know the guy. Not even after living with him in close quarters for half a year, and sharing a stage up to twice a week.

Apparently, despite that he was still able to notice her unease about being stuck in an airplane. The last thing she needed was a rumor being spread around about the great Stella Karamanlis, one of the most-skilled escapists on both sides of the equator, being scared of flights. As if being the only woman in this group wasn’t hard enough.

Truth be told, flying agitated her indeed. It wasn’t the fear of crashing that made her fidget in her seat though. Getting out of handcuffs while under water with a horde of bloodthirsty piranhas hanging over her head was something she could deal with, freeing herself from that was child’s play. Sitting in an airplane with nothing but empty, barely breathable air around you for miles and miles… that was real. She could hardly be blamed for the perfectly reasonable tension in her shoulders, and the continuous glances out the tiny window in the hope of catching a glimpse of land.

If someone had told her fifteen years ago that one day she’d be sitting in a private jet with three of the world’s best magicians on her way to a sold-out show in L.A., she’d have given them an ice cream cone to cool down that romping imagination. Fifteen years ago, she was a girl from the outskirts of Melbourne, wearing floral print dresses and having a knack for getting herself out of tricky situations, in a very literal sense.

Now, she and the three guys who were the closest thing she had to friends and brothers filled concert halls and stadiums and you could even watch their first show on Netflix. A lot of things had changed. Her discontent about flying had not.

“You know that I could make it easier for all of us and just hypnotize you, right?” Hoosier asked, the gleam in his eyes doing nothing to calm Stella’s nerves.

“Thanks,” she declined, almost reflexively avoiding Hoosier’s eyes, “but I don’t like you messing with my head. None of us do,” she added, keeping her tone light. It took a lot to really ruffle Hoosier’s feathers, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

He shook his head slightly. “None of you know how to appreciate my form of art. It’s not messing, it’s,” he smirked, “magic.”

Unable to help herself, Stella chuckled. “Well, forgive me for preferring a more substantial form of magic. One that won’t end with me doing embarrassing things that I can’t even remember.”

Hoosier actually looked mildly offended at that. “I’d never do that to you. Or people I care about.”

This time, Stella outright laughed. “I was there when you made Leckie eat that can of peaches. Those were my shoes he threw up on.”

Humming, Hoosier closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the back of the seat. “Yeah, he’s a charmer, ain’t he? We all had a damn good time though, don’t deny it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

There was no lie in that. Usually, she enjoyed herself immensely during nights out with her friends (“her boys,” as she often affectionately referred to them).

The absence of a paying crowd they had to perform for allowed them to be just four people in their late twenties wandering laughingly through buzzing city streets, stopping from time to time to investigate a pub or club and, more often than not, getting free drinks for performing a trick or two. (Just because it wasn’t an official show, didn’t mean they couldn’t use their special skills to their advantage, even in their downtime.)

Hoosier opened his eyes a fraction, mustering her from under half-closed lids.

“I’ve been wondering about that. What is it that you dream of, sweetheart? Is it money? Is it fame? Is it my incredibly good-looking and attractive self?”

“Oh dear god.” She let her leg jerk up to kick Hoosier in the shin. Not too violently, just enough that he would find a bruise there the next day.

“The fuck,” the wounded complained, every ounce of sleepiness gone. “Not that I would object to more physically straining activities in the bedroom, but that was uncalled for.” He rubbed his leg, as if that would magically (hah) make the pain go away.

“That what _you_ dream of at night?” Stella retorted, tilting her head. “Is that why you go after me, the one with the handcuffs and chains?”

Hoosier grinned in that lascivious way that more often than not saved him from having to spend money on alcoholic beverages in bars.

“Do keep talkin’, doll. ‘specially if it keeps your thoughts away from less pleasant things.”

Stella could practically hear the pieces click together in her head. So, this wasn’t just an attempt of Hoosier to hit on her, this was –

Before Stella could respond and put her revelation into words, a curly head popped up between them and Leckie flopped into the seat next to Hoosier.

“Hey,” he greeted, drawing out the ‘y’. “What’s up, what are you talking about, anything you want to share?” His gaze went from Stella to Hoosier and back again, looking rather desperate for answers. “You guys talking about me?”

Sharing a meaningful look, Stella and Hoosier, respectively, raised an eyebrow.

In eerie unison they turned their eyes on the interrupter, who was wearing his questionable combination of cardigan and jeans. Questionable not because it looked hideous per se, but because together with the glasses that he had donned instead of his contacts, his general appearance conveyed “grad student with neither plan nor good eyesight” rather than “tough street magician ready to rock a sold-out venue with his card tricks and deception skills”.

“Come off your high horse, professor,” Hoosier said, seamlessly transitioning from flirting to put-upon annoyance. “Not everything’s about you.” He pointedly looked at the book in Leckie’s hand. “Already done with Hemingway?”

Leckie pulled a mildly disgusted face. “No, I can’t concentrate. Bad enough that it’s fucking Hemingway. On top of that I got Runner next to me practicing the card flourish I showed him five times last week, and he keeps screwing it up over and over and over - it’s just too  fucking depressing.”

“Sorry, my uncultured ass - as you like to put it - wouldn’t know,” Hoosier said, tone indicating that he didn’t regard this as a problem whatsoever.

Stella had a hard time suppressing a laugh. “Can’t say that I understand it any more than Bill does. Apologies, Bob, you’re alone with your suffering.”

Leckie sighed, leaning back in his seat. “When am I not? Don’t –“ he held up a hand, “don’t answer that. Rhetorical question.”

A few moments of silence passed in which Stella and Hoosier gave him time to feel sorry for himself. That was usually the easiest method of dealing with Leckie in enclosed spaces.

Then he finally pulled himself out of his thoughts and perked up a bit.

“I’m glad you don’t seem too affected by this trip, Stella. Good to see you in a plane without being two seconds from detonating.”

Trying not to feel embarrassed, Stella smiled and shook her head. “Have to thank Bill for that. Kept my mind occupied.” She nudged Hoosier’s leg, much more gently this time.

It earned her Leckie’s raised eyebrows and a quirk of Hoosier’s lips.

“Honey, you haven’t even experienced the full extent of my skills when it comes to keeping your mind focused on the pleasures of this world.” Hoosier looked sufficiently self-satisfied, especially when Leckie had to the audacity to laugh.

She was surrounded by pubescent boys.

“No, Hoosier, you’re doing it all wrong.” Leckie chuckled. “You have to woe a lady first. At least light a candle and put your pick up lines into iambic pentameter.” He cleared his throat and turned to Stella. “‘But soft, what light through yonder skirts there breaks?’”

And romance was apparently as dead as they said.

“Dear Robert,” Stella began, speaking over Leckie’s sniggering. Even Hoosier’s grin looked genuinely amused. “Do I have to remind you of the first time you tried to ask me out, and you practically crawled on your knees and could barely remember your own name?”

“Wait!” came Runner’s call from the other end of the jet. “Wait, if this is a story about Peaches embarrassing himself I gotta hear it, hold on!” True to his nickname he came dashing into the back compartment and fell into the seat next to Stella. “Alright, carry on.”

“No,” Leckie said vehemently, “there’s nothing to tell here, she already said more than you need to know.”

Curiosity awakened, Hoosier sat up a little straighter. “I think I’d like to decide that for myself.”

“Yeah,” Runner agreed, “we have a right to get information. Free country, God bless America and all that, right?”

Leckie levelled him with a flat look. “She’s Australian.”

“The fuck’s your point?”

“You know what, fuck you all.” Despite the words, Leckie’s voice was more amused than truly upset.

Still, Hoosier made a chiding noise while Stella shook her head.

Runner grinned. “You wish,” he said confidently.

A delighted expression on his face, Leckie began, “Well, technically, my friend –“

Immediately seeing where this was going, Stella, in a futile attempt to hide the faint blush on her cheeks turned her head to look out the plane’s tiny window. What she saw there nearly took her breath away.

“Hey, guys, look,” she got out, interrupting Leckie before he could lay bare any incriminating details.

The talking ceased and the others joined her in looking out and taking in the scene.

The city of L.A. unfolded in front of their eyes, the maze of the streets forming a labyrinth between skyscrapers and houses, parks and playgrounds. A spider web that connected the stadium where that night’s show was supposed to elicit admiring ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s to the homes of those the four of them were to impress.

Stella could feel the familiar tingle under her skin, the electricity of excitement and ecstasy, and the three next to her must’ve felt the same. There was nothing quite like it, and it was why they did what they did and why they loved it so much. She felt Leckie’s breath hitch slightly and Runner leaning forward just a little more to take it all in. Hoosier whistled quietly.

Stella smiled.

“Boys, there’s a great future lying ahead of us, I can feel it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
